Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(77)
I’d lost track of the days. When the food stopped, my energy depleted—especially with Fletcher juicing from me more often. I’d lost the energy to fight him off, and as a result, my ability to tell time wasn’t reliable.
“You better hurry before he changes his mind,” she said quietly.
I dragged my arm toward the plate and grabbed a bone, not even bothering to lift my head as I drew the meat to my lips. It was juicy, and I took big bites until I became so ravenous that I sat up. Once I’d eaten every morsel of the lamb, I shoved the grilled potatoes into my mouth all at once.
“I cooked everything,” she said, as if seeking my approval.
My stomach cramped when I finished chewing the last bite. Maybe my malnutrition affected the quality of my light, so Fletcher had given in. After I gulped down the water, I wiped my mouth and moved the chain out of my lap. The manacles on my wrists had bruised and cut my skin from my repeated attempts to weaken a hinge by pulling. A foot of slack separated my wrists—same as my ankles—and attached to a master chain that bolted into the wall above my head.
“I’m glad he lengthened your chain again,” she said, collecting my trash. “It’s more comfortable than the shortest one.”
I wiped strands of matted hair away from my face. “Where is he?”
“Sleeping. I don’t think he’ll be coming back in here tonight. He hasn’t had lamb shanks in a long time, and he ate too much.”
I licked my chapped lips. “He’s been leaving the house?”
“No. I’m doing all the work.”
Much to my dismay. I hoped Fletcher would return to his regular routine so he could stay the hell away from me. His visits used to be once a day, but boredom and a light addiction don’t mix.
I grabbed the threadbare blanket beside me and covered my naked body. “Don’t you want to be an independent?”
Her thick brows furrowed. Rachel must have been about my height and build, but she seemed weaker and defenseless. Had short hair been his idea or hers? The frumpy dress was certainly his. Did she dress that way in public? The hospital probably had a dress code, and I guessed Fletcher didn’t allow her to do anything outside of errands.
“You’re not supposed to live with your Creator forever,” I explained. “He wants you to fear the outside world so you’ll never leave him. He might allow you to venture out and work, but you’re still his. His to control, his to juice light from, and his to order around like a servant.”
“What am I supposed to do, go to the Mageri? They’ll put me down like a rabid dog.”
I knew all about that fear. Years later, it was still difficult to undo all the paranoia Fletcher had instilled. “Only if they think you’re unstable. You haven’t murdered anyone, have you? The Mageri has an evaluation process. If you don’t want to seek their protection, then escape Cognito and find a small town. Live your life.”
She adamantly shook her head. “He saved me from a drug overdose. They thought I was dead. Fletcher gives me everything I need. I’m not a prisoner. I go out, work, shop, and someday he might grant me independence.”
I lowered my head. Rachel didn’t want to hear the truth. Fear had nestled into her heart and made a home. “Can you do me a favor?”
She stared at me wordlessly.
“I just want my friends to know I’m alive. That’s all.”
Rachel peered over her shoulder at the door. “He’ll find out.”
“There’s no way he’ll know unless he follows you, and from the sound of it, he barely gets off the couch. I’m not asking you to give them directions on where to find me. I just want them to know I’m alive. They’re not human, so they have a right to know. It’ll make Fletcher’s life easier,” I added. “I’m the reason why the Mageri is looking for him. I can tell them to stop searching.”
“It sounds dangerous. What if they force me to talk? I can’t.”
She had a point. Keystone wasn’t going to let her walk without Christian charming her for information. She would never take such a risk. “What about leaving a message with a bartender? He knows my friends, and you won’t have to confront anyone. You can just walk in, drop off the note, and leave before he even reads it. No arranged meetings or anything that would make you uncomfortable. I promise Fletcher won’t find out, and if anything, this’ll help his situation. Helping him means helping both of us. He can go back to his job and start earning money again. I’ll put something in the note that says I’m choosing to leave. That way the Enforcers won’t be able to touch Fletcher. He’s not smart enough to believe this’ll work, but you are.”
She worried her lip.
What Rachel didn’t realize was that the note was irrelevant. The important part was someone being able to identify Rachel. She had a distinct look and style. Not many women had a pixie cut, and her large green eyes were stunning even if the rest of her was quite plain. I wasn’t sure how much my team knew about the buyer—if anything—but I was hopeful that Enforcers showing up at Fletcher’s work wasn’t a coincidence. Someone might be able to trace her to the hospital he worked at. Maybe Keystone had given up searching, but that didn’t mean I had to give up.
“Please, Rachel. I don’t know anything about your family or past, but you have to know how it feels to leave someone behind. My friends are all I’ve got in this world. I don’t want them worrying about me. If I can just tell them that I’m happy and alive, it’ll be the closure everyone needs. Fletcher can go back to work, and your life goes back to normal.” I realized Rachel was more influenced by fear than sentiment, so I threw in something else for good measure. “You’re not registered with the Mageri, are you? How long do you think it’ll take before they realize you shouldn’t be working at the hospital? The Enforcers will be back, and they’re not going to believe your story. Send the note, and my friends will call off the search.”